No Reply
by mccorded
Summary: Henry McCord being the man beside the woman. College to present time.


_I've never done this before and my writing is sucky but I couldn't get this out of my head so here you go. Kind of got carried away here and it's completely unrevised, sorry._

They've been dating for seven months.

When she doesn't answer his calls or show up to their reservation, he finds himself on his way to her dorm. Confused, hurt, and slightly irritated, he knocks on her door.

"Elizabeth?" he calls out, a little forcefully. No answer.

"Elizabeth, _please_." A little softer this time.

Still no answer.

Panic washes over. The future marine in him is ready to kick down the door until it suddenly swings open and she's standing there before him.

He opens his mouth, but he doesn't speak. His ability to formulate any coherent thought leaves him and he can't figure out why. All he knows is that she's standing there with her hair up in somewhat of a bun, in his sweatshirt and sweats, and she's crying.

His heart is breaking at the sight before him and every fiber of his being is screaming at him to do something, but _he can't._

He's standing there with his mouth agape, watching her hiccup as she refuses to look at him.

They stand like that for God knows how long until her sobbing gets the best of her and she finally falls into him.

"Henry," she breathes.

The sound of her voice brings him back to his senses and he wraps his arms around her. Awkwardly, he shuffles them into her room and closes the door behind him, all whilst she clings to him.

There's a framed photograph of her parents on her bed that he's never seen before and he puts the pieces together.

It's April 14th. ' _They passed away in the Spring,_ ' he recalls her revealing to him.

She's sitting on the bed now and he's kneeling before her, holding her hands to his heart.

"Elizabeth, I'm so sorry."

She gives him a weak nod.

"What can I do?"

"Just... just be close to me. Please."

Without skipping a beat, he gets up and strips down to his boxers and t-shirt. She follows suit as he climbs into her tiny bed and holds her close to him.

He doesn't sleep that night. Instead, he vows to himself (and to her) that he would never let her spend this day alone again.

He keeps his word.

It's the night before he deploys.

Emotions running wild, they fight. At this point, they don't even remember what about.

They're standing on opposite sides of their living room, overwhelmed.

She sits down and puts her head in her hands, "This is not how today was supposed to be," she mumbles.

He sighs as he walks over and tenderly cups her face with his hand as he crouches before her, "the day's not over yet."

She leans into his touch and closes her eyes, "I don't wanna fight anymore."

"What can I do?" he says softly.

"Tell me that you love you me."

So he does. Over and over again until she accepts it.

They decide to go for four, but God has other plans.

They're in bed that night, exhausted after putting on a smile for the kids following the devastating events of that morning.

He wants to comfort her. He wants to hold her and tell her she's not at fault until she starts to believe it. He wants to kiss every single part of her face until she feels better again.

But none of that seems right at the moment, so he turns to her and asks, "what can I do?"

"I don't know."

He feels defeated. She senses his dilemma. Not knowing what to do, she turns to him, curling into his chest and finally allowing herself to cry. They hold each other as they let their emotions get the best of them, letting out the tears that they had been holding in all day.

He finally gathers himself and whispers words of love into her ear until she's asleep in his arms.

Being the Secretary of State isn't all rainbows and butterflies. The McCord family learned this early on, but it still didn't get any easier seeing their matriarch so torn up all the time.

One night, she comes home late, per usual, and finds him at the kitchen table. Grading papers, she presumes.

He jumps at the sound of her pulling out the chair beside him and watches as she lays her head down. He catches on and quickly packs up the remnants of his late night grading session. Scooting closer to her, he takes her hand and gently urges her to look at him.

"Bad day?" he asks with a head tilt. She only nods in response.

"What can I do?"

This time he's able to crack a smile from her. "Pancakes?" she suggests, her voice full of hope.

"Of course." He shoots her a grin and gets up to start on their midnight snack.

"Blueberries?"

They're in bed one night, waiting for sleep to wash over them.

"I've decided to announce my campaign this coming January," she says one night into the darkness of their room.

She can't see it, but he smiles. He's never been more proud of the woman beside him in his life.

He turns to her and says, "what can I do?"

"I need you to be you. There's no way in hell I'm getting through this without you, Henry, so I need you to-"

He silences her with a finger to her lips, "okay."

They're silent for a moment until he says, "promise me one thing?"

"Yeah?" she answers, drowsiness evident in her voice.

"You'll let me be your First Gentleman."

She snorts at his wittiness and plays along, "hmm..." she fakes a thoughtful expression, "I'll think about it."

Laughing, he pulls her close to him and they both fall asleep with goofy grins on their faces.

It's been a year since he lost her. After waving his kids off and hugging his grandchildren goodbye they hesitantly leave him alone, giving him a moment that they all know he needs before he leaves her. He's sitting in front of her grave, holding the charms that have hung from his neck for more than half a century now to his heart.

He thinks of the life they built and the memories they made. Giving into the feeling of regret and nostalgia, he cycles through the "what ifs" a million times over. His family says it's unhealthy, and he knows they're right, but he can't help himself.

He misses her.

The sui generis affect she had on him. The feeling of home whenever he was near her. Her endless pillow buying. Waking up with her whenever she got calls from the White House at ungodly hours of the night. The way his heart skipped a beat every time she smiled. Her complaining about trade deals gone wrong... and Russell Jackson. How everyone's demeanor changed every time she walked into a room. Hearing her sing the Beach Boys in the shower. Her pure beauty and elegance. The way she would laugh at his awful jokes. Her heartbeat next to his in the early hours of the morning. The way her hand fit in his. Waking up to a face full of her hair. The way she fell into his arms after a long day. Her turning to him whenever she sought comfort.

He smiles through his tears as he remembers the four words that he knew meant the world to her. The words he knew she loved to hear.

" _What can I do?_ " he whispers obliviously, barely noticing the words leaving his mouth.

And for the first time in his life, there's no reply.


End file.
